Relapse
by dentedsky
Summary: Pansy Parkinson is fed up and Hermione Granger is forever asking the question: Is it the key to Immortality or Fates chance for Love after Death? Darkfic, femslash.
1. Resurrect

**Relapse**  
By dented-sky 

Rated R  
Pansy/Hermione, Pansy/Draco, past-Lucius/Draco implied, Bill/Ginny implied, Seamus/Anthony/(boy)Blaise love triangle  
Violence, Language, Supernatural themes, Necromancy, Non-con, Drug use, Angst, Cross-generation implied, Incest implied, Horror, Romance, Drama, Mystery

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: Thank you to my Beta Adele, who is a really cool person and was quick to beta this chapter. Thanks babe!

**Chapter One – Resurrect**

He can't cry in his mourning  
Then he hears the Mudblood say  
'Your Obsession is disturbing,  
No knowing week from day'

Pansy Parkinson knew, even as her fist collided with a rough jaw, that there was more to it than wanting to see his father again.

It was about _revenge_.

Zacharias Smith did his trademark scissor-kick that Pansy easily blocked. The night was getting old and it moaned complaints to the intruders through the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Thinking Pansy was distracted, Zacharias attempted to kick her middle then punch her face, but Pansy was quicker and she high-kicked Zacharias, slamming him to the dirt. She crouched and spun-kicked him while he was down.

He groaned as the pain shot up his body, and Pansy jumped on him, straddling his waist. If your opponent is down for three whole seconds, you win. Three.

Draco Malfoy and his never-ending hate for Harry Potter, Pansy thought disgustedly. _What a waste of good animosity that could be used for something more… like prize money for the Combat Tournament._

And all Draco could do was curse over his dead father's grave, and spit, and wonder constantly why he had let Potter do it. He asked Pansy all the time: '_Why, Pansy, why? What did Father do that was so bad?_' And Pansy had always answered: '_Potter never saw a man, Draco, he only saw a Monster._' Two.

Draco was elsewhere in the forest, no longer taking part in tonight's game. The game was an alibi, and Pansy had promised to help him but she still hated to lose on purpose. And Padma will gloat again tomorrow. Damn. 

Such a messy business: this raising the dead and all. Draco will not stop until Lucius Malfoy is alive again. One.

The timer stopped and froze in the air on "75". Then it compressed itself (it was like a big floating blue neon light) into a ball and sped through the trees and away to the score board on the other side of the forest. Zacharias groaned and tried to lift himself up. "Good round…" he tried to mutter through bloodied lips.

"Stop talking," said Pansy, but not unkindly. "Here, let me help you." She checked her watch, _ten minutes to go_, then lifted her wand and performed healing spells on his bruised body. He stood up. "You can use your own Healing Salve."

"Yeah, thanks," he said in his bored tone. "S'ok. I'm going in now. Good luck."

"Yeah," she said distractedly. Then she pouted. "You only have two?"

Zacharias was untying the red ribbons from around his right bicep and then he handed them to her. He shrugged and he walked away, disappearing through the trees. Pansy healed herself.

She stretched her limbs and strode through the trees to find the next clearing. She currently had six red ribbons. The game only involved the seventh years, it was only held on Friday nights, and it went like this: everyone starts off with one red ribbon, and when the first two people to collect ten come forward to the alter at the end, the game ends and those two have to fight it out for a point on the Ladder. Highest person on the Ladder by the end of the season wins two hundred Galleons, thanks to Theodore Nott's Uncle, a lover of brutality, and scout for England's Dueling Team.

Pansy entered the quiet clearing just as Padma Patil entered from the right. Padma smirked as Pansy nervously played with her golden blonde hair that she had tied into a tight ponytail. _Shit_, Pansy cursed to herself. _Shit, shit, shit_. The Ravenclaw was good, the best female combatant in the year, coming only second to Theodore. She had won last Tournament's season. At least if Pansy forced herself to lose this round it would not look so bad…

"I haven't talked to you in a couple of days," said Padma happily as they got in to position. Stupid bitch.

"True," drawled Pansy. "We'll have to catch up tomorrow; can't let Girls Aloud get neglected, now can we?"

They both laughed shrilly and exchanged smiles, but the gesture was not sincere. A bright blue sphere hovered above their heads and changed shape to show the count-down number "120", just as Padma said quietly, "May the best girl win."

Pansy suppressed the urge to snarl. They launched themselves at each other.

Padma's first move was a high-kick, but she had missed as Pansy had crouched in to a butterfly squat, and then controlled her swift slaps on Padma's lower body which Padma had not been ready to block. Padma did not lose her balance, however, instead back-flipped away then flicked out her wand from her sleeve. "_Impedimenta!_"

Pansy dogged, of course, and sprung in the air, aiming to scissor-kick Padma in the head, but the Ravenclaw shot an arm out and hit Pansy hard in the stomach. Pansy crumpled to the ground. Padma never wasted time; she quickly ran to Pansy's side and kicked her hard four times in the ribs before Pansy could roll away and get up.

They were both breathing hard. "Come on, old girl," Padma taunted. Pansy had always hated it when she called her that. "You having one of your _bad_ nights?"

Pansy had actually not been trying hard at all, because she had to lose this match without looking like she lost on purpose, but she hated Padma Patil and her gloating, even though they pretended to be really good friends. This time, Pansy sneered. "Don't bet on it," she panted. And they ran at each other again.

It was fast and fierce. They were close together in the clearing, and were aiming fast punches at each other, blocking most of the blows. Then Pansy kicked her foot out, tripping the other girl, then crouched and spun-kicked while Padma was down, but Padma got up immediately afterwards. Pansy kicked and hit, but then Padma gave her three uppercuts fast and hard, throwing Pansy in the air on the last punch. Padma flicked her wand out again and shouted, "_Stupefy!_" Pansy did not have time to block, and fell heavily to the ground.

Fuck.

She hated coming up from unconsciousness. It was like waking up from a too-deep sleep or being emerged in water and trying desperately to swim to the surface, though you have this vague thought at the back of your mind that you will not make it. The first thing Pansy saw when she came to was Padma's triumphant, gloating and self-satisfied smile firmly placed on her stupid, pretty head.

"That was a really terrible Duel," said Padma happily as if she was talking about the weather. "Try better next time."

The only response Pansy could give her was a groan as she tried to sit up. Padma said no more and walked away with Pansy's ribbons tied to her arm along with the others Padma had collected during the game. She already had more than enough to reach the final alter. Pansy grimaced.

After healing herself again and rubbing Healing Salve into her sore wrist, Pansy Disapparated.

She arrived to her destination: a clearing at the west side of the forest near the lake. Draco had already performed the first three stages of the spell.

Pansy opened her mouth to ask how he was doing, but it died on her lips when she saw what was lying, convulsing in the circle of candles. "Draco," she gasped, before covering her mouth with her hand. She suddenly felt very nauseous. "What… who -?"

Draco rounded on her. He was flushed, his were eyes manic and his face contorted with his barely controlled anger. "You're late!"

Pansy turned to stare at the young, pale boy who was shaking and shivering so much in his almost-death that the dirt on which he was laying upon was billowing up in clouds. "Draco, that's a -"

"It's just a Muggle, Pansy," he drawled in a way that made it sound like it was just another dog or cat they were experimenting on. He looked at her stonily. "I want you," he said slowly and deliberately, "to pick up the book and recite the words I told you to earlier." She did not move, however. She just could not rip her eyes away. 

"I - I _can't…_"

He stepped up to her, took hold of her shoulders and shook her roughly until she looked up into his eyes. She found that even in his strong grip she could not stop trembling. "Pansy," he said loudly, "you have to do this!" A desperately strong emotion flickered across his pointed features. "_You have to_," he hissed, "_for my father!_"

"_Alright!_" she hissed back. She took a deep breath. "Fine. I can do this."

He let go. "Good," he drawled before going over to the body and kneeling over it; one knee on each side of the almost-dead boy's hips. He placed his hands on the Muggle's throat. "_Now!_"

She picked up the book and turned to the page she knew so well she did not even have to check for page numbers, then recited the words.

"_aqualis anima copulare spiritus, nomen Deus, accipere copulare corporalis anima spirius, humus rise, aqualis anima copulare… _"

The air crackled with the power and energy, blue and magnificent. It was loud, buzzing, and rose to surround the two boys like a whirlpool of pure liquid magic.

"_...nomen Deus…_"

Suddenly the Muggle threw his head back and let out keening cry. Pansy winced, and deep down she knew the loud crying of an almost-dead male would be forever tattooed on her mind. _ Many a sleepless night will follow…_

The rainbow of shades of blue circled thicker and larger, and Draco held on, and then threw his own head back to scream in an almost orgasmic cry. The two boys were on the ground, screaming as magic air whipped their hair and clothes, and shadows played on their faces. Pansy did not stop chanting and her voice echoed throughout the clearing. The magic grew, then flickered slightly before a white ring of pure power shuddered, then expanded, before widening and pulsating through the trees of the forest in one big shiver.

Over in another side of the forest where the darkness was thicker and the trees taller, Hermione Granger felt the pulse.

She looked up from the clipboard, where she had been jotting down notes and gasped, "What was that?"

Harry Potter may have felt it too, but it seemed he had not heard her. "Hermione," he called from the branch he was sitting on, examining a standing giant's belly, "I think - I think she might be pregnant."

"H - Harry…"

He turned to her, puzzled. "What's the matter?" But then something in the distance caught his eye, and he squinted.

Hermione looked to the sky, but the trees were too tall to see anything, yet she saw that the sky had suddenly lit up, as if it were the beginnings of dawn. She looked back at Harry, fear slowly making her body throb. "What is it?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, light, or something."

Hermione looked up at the giant Grawp, whose face was twisted in an emotion that some would call apprehension as he watched Harry examine his mate. "Grawp," Hermione called.

He looked down at her with his beady black eyes. "HERMY," he grunted in acknowledgement.

"Hermy go up," she shouted up at him, dropping her clipboard and raising her arms. There was a sudden loud groaning of muscles as Grawp bent over and held out his large hand. Grawp and his mate, Jom, had been trained by Hermione, Harry and Hagrid on a regular basis for the past two years, so they both knew some English, as well as the importance of being gentle. Hermione sat down on his hand, and he slowly brought her up to sit on his shoulder, before he stood up.

Hermione peered into the distance and gasped. There was a beam of blue light, raising itself towards the sky. She turned to Harry, who had gotten himself on Jom's shoulder to see better. He looked over at her. "Do you think," he asked, "it has something to do with the Tournament?"

Hermione shook her head. "No; it's something else, for sure."

They glanced back at the strange light, and then exchanged glances, and Hermione found her own expression reflected in his. They had silently come to an agreement, and together, they were lowered to the ground.

Hermione put her clipboard and pencil in the hollow of her usual tree. She and Harry said goodbye to the giants, and with a determined stride, they left the giants clearing together, heading towards the strange light.

They ran towards in the direction of the place they assumed the light was, branches and twigs snapped and tore at them angrily, but still the Gryffindors ran. Hermione knew they were close, because Harry had become a silhouette in front of her, his grand body was framed in the glow.

Harry and Hermione stopped in a clearing that was bathed such a bright and powerful light that they had to shield their eyes from it. When Hermione's eyes adjusted, she saw two figures across the clearing, standing close together. She squinted to see who is was, but she could not make them out. Harry grabbed her arm.

"Hermione," he said gruffly, then nodded his head to the centre of the clearing.

A boy surrounded by light, leaves and wax was lying on the ground, convulsing and vomiting blood.

Hermione screamed.

The two figures retreated, and she caught a glimpse of silver reflected in the light.

Malfoy.

Later Hermione found herself at the edge of forest, screeching randomly and slipping on the frosty grass. If Harry had not been holding her arms so tightly, she would have slipped and fallen. "Hermione! Hermione, shhh, quiet don't - Shhh please Hermione be _quiet_ -"

She was barely coherent. "How could they how - fuck, that's so, _fuck_ how Harry how _could_ they, he, ugh, he -"

"He's dead," Harry told her loudly.

"No, no, no let _go_ of me how can - can they - he needs help we have to _help him_ Harry -"

"No, Hermione, shhh -"

"Please Harry, _please!_"

"HERMIONE!" Harry shook her until she was silent. She felt a hot surge of anger at the realization that his eyes were not even wet. "Everyone will be coming out soon and you _have to be quiet!_"

"Please," she sobbed, "_please Harry…_" He peered into her face from beyond his mass of black locks, and then very suddenly, pulled her into a hard and fierce embrace, rubbing a hand up and down her back until she was sure her flesh was red and sore.

"It'll be alright," he whispered in her ear. "I'll get them back, Hermione, but _please_ _sssh!_"

She pulled away, slightly. "You promise?" she whimpered.

He gave her a hard and determined smile. "I promise."

Together, they walked back to the Hogwarts castle and to the Gryffindor Tower. Lavender Brown was the only one back from the Tournament and she smiled at them when they entered the Common Room.

"Hey," she said lightly, and then bit her lip. They sat together on the couches surrounding the fire. "Guess what?"

Hermione said nothing; instead she stared into the roaring fire, unable to get the image of the boy out of her head, and his cries as he called for his missing soul. Harry responded to Lavender. "I don't know, what?"

Hermione could hear the grin in Lavender's voice. "Mutton," she said.

"Mutton?" asked Harry. "You mean your kitten that was lost a few weeks back?"

"Yes," said Lavender, giggling a bit. "He came back!" she squealed, happily. "He's on my bed right now. I thought he might need some sleep but… oh, Harry, I'm so happy to see him again!"

There was pause, and Hermione looked up at Harry, who was frowning thoughtfully. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the rest of the seventh year Gryffindors who had burst through the portrait hole, talking excitedly.

"Aye," said Seamus, "I kicked him _ hard_, then he fell, and before he could get up I kicked him in the jewels!"

Dean, Neville, Parvati and Ron all laughed loudly. "Well that's nothing," laughed Parvati. "You should see Anthony's face! I was able to perform that nail transfiguration while he was down, and scratched him to bits! He'll have scars all over!"

They all noticed Lavender, Harry and Hermione, and then sat by the fire. "Where did you go, Lav?" asked Seamus.

"Forfeited," said Lavender, grinning widely. "I found Mutton!"

Seamus looked at her quizzically. "Mutton? I thought he d -"

"Ran away," Harry cut in loudly. "He ran away, Seamus."

Seamus turned to Harry and stared. "But didn't he -?"

"Nope," Harry said too quickly, "ran away."

Conversation quickly turned back to the Combat Tournament, so Hermione went to bed. She was tired, scared and chilled. As she got dressed into her nightdress, she caught on the eyes of Mutton, who was sitting on Lavender's bed, staring unblinkingly at Hermione with cold grey orbs. She watched curiously as the kitten's eyes followed Hermione wherever she moved around the room. A small bubble of uneasy fear burst inside of her and she realized that something was just not right.

Mutton's eyes were not glowing. _Don't cats' eyes usually glow?_

Hermione lit her bedside lamp with a spell. She sat in bed for a little while, reading a textbook.

Minutes past, neither Lavender nor Parvati had come up to their dormitory, and Hermione could feel her eyelids getting heavy and drifting to a close.

When she woke up, her lamp had gone out, and it was dark. The other two girls were still not back yet, and Mutton was still sitting on the same spot, staring. Hermione stepped out of bed, hissing at the feel of the cold stone floor beneath her bare feet. She put on her dressing gown and slippers and walked out of the room.

The Common Room was dark and empty, the blue moon light through the window allowed shadows to still around the large room. _Where is everyone?_

Something moved. Hermione froze.

A boy made of shades of soft blue stepped out of the shadows. He stood, head tilted inquisitively and he was staring at Hermione with unnaturally large eyes. She told herself not to be scared, and why should she, if she saw ghosts all the time?

He opened his mouth, the movement not smooth but jerky, and he whispered something Hermione could not catch. Her eyes widened at the site of his breath: white smoke, as if he was a person talking on a frosty morning. She knew one thing: ghosts did not have breath, nor did they walk; they floated.

He whispered something again, and then stepped closer. Too close.

Hermione jerked awake, shivering.

Looking around the room, she noticed Parvati and Lavender were asleep in their beds, and still the kitten continued to stare. _So cold_.

Meanwhile, in another part of the castle, Pansy Parkinson was lying with Draco Malfoy in his bed, and she was stroking his hair.

Draco was smoking a cigarette, and he was in one of his moods. "We were so close," he murmured, "so close."

"Yes," said Pansy, though she did not really agree. She watched the red light of the cigarette move through the darkness as he took a drag. She shivered, not liking the feeling of being naked beneath someone else's sheets, even if it was her boyfriend's.

He moved to pass her the cigarette, and she accidentally bumped his arm. The sensation of wetness grazed her knuckles. She gasped as she took smoking stub. "You didn't -"

"Leave it," he snapped quietly. "I don't - I just don't _care_ anymore."

Pansy muttered something; even she was not sure what it was. With the cigarette between her lips, she reached down to the floor, grabbing her nightshirt.

As she pressed it to his forearm to stop the bleeding, Draco said, "I'll kill Potter. _I'll kill him_."

-TBC-


	2. Restless

**Relapse**  
By dented-sky 

Rated R  
Pansy/Hermione, Pansy/Draco, past-Lucius/Draco implied, Bill/Ginny implied, Seamus/Anthony/(boy)Blaise love triangle, past-Ron/Hermione implied, Ron/Hermione/Harry friendship  
Violence, Language, Supernatural themes, Necromancy, Non-con, Drug use, Angst, Cross-generation implied, Incest implied, Horror, Romance, Drama, Mystery

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Poem belongs to me.

Notify List: See bio on author page.

Author's Notes: Thank you to my Beta Adele, and thank you to Gracie for the read-through. Feedback very much welcome!

**Chapter Two – Restless **

_Then she clutches at his hair  
Neither in want nor pleasure  
Blotches of red on skin so fair  
And screaming ripples for ever_

Hermione Granger was not a virgin and even if she was, she figured she would still feel exactly the same. 

She had only done _it_ with Ron three times, and ever since, she has let herself believe that old line, 'three times lucky'. The first time was excruciatingly painful, the second extremely uncomfortable and when the third time came along she thought she had _felt something_, even if it was a small spark of pleasure. She had always believed that if she _really_ wanted to, she would do it again. 

Maybe.

Not that now was a good time to think about sex, because she was currently sitting in the library on a Saturday afternoon, studying. Every now and again she would lift her head up and look around, expecting to see the ghost-boy who had visited her last night in her – very – realistic dreams. 

She was almost completely sure that the spirit who had inconveniently latched itself onto her was the same Muggle boy who as seen the clearing, fighting with the painful splitting of his soul. He had been crying out for death while parts of him were ripped away in directions that no parts of a person were supposed to go. It was like sending a girl to an all boys school or putting a Quidditch textbook in the Herbology section in the library. It was wrong in every sense. 

And now there was a spirit floating and misplaced and making Hermione's fingers cold, her toes curl, her chest shudder with every breath and her dreams turn into whirlpools of frost, blood, suppressed memories and never ending darkness. 

Dreams… and now she was reminded once again of that recurring dream of Ron baring his weight down upon her, her legs up in the air and spread, her brown curls splayed across the cotton pillows, Ron panting roughly in her ear, the sound of the headboard banging against the wall, and that tight, terrible pain – 

She swore she had told him to stop. But, maybe he had not heard her? Maybe she had not said it loud enough? Maybe it was her fault, after all? 

Hermione forced herself to put her head down and read, and before she knew it, the torches had been lit and there was no longer any light coming in through the windows. Yawning, she looked around and found that she was almost alone in the large library. 

Walking back from the library during late nights was never a big feat, but now, with a strange prickling coldness creeping up her neck, and ghost eyes seeming to follow her as she walked… this was Hogwarts, she was suppose to feel _safe _ here. She made a detour down some stairs towards the less familiar part of the school. 

On the ground floor, overlooking the student gardens and all the green houses was a long corridor. It was open and breezy; the large arched glassless windows made up one side; all stone and magnificent. On the other side was a wall of stone and no doors, decorated with old tapestries showing grand symbols of heroes, gods and warlocks. The third last tapestry was golden and dark, displaying the grand black-winged pegasus Destiny and his friend, Prophet the finch who fluttered around Destiny's head playfully. 

"Password?" said Destiny in his royal, humble voice. 

"No password," Hermione announced. "My name is Hermione Granger." On cue, Prophet flew to the edge of the tapestry and disappeared. A moment later she came back and Hermione lifted the tapestry before crawling through the tunnel in the wall. 

Saturday nights in the Hufflepuff Common Room were the same: rock music, upturned furniture, laughter, hordes of intoxicated teenagers and a smoke so thick that you could hardly see two metres in front. Hermione was met with that night's doormen. 

Justin Finch-Fletchley took a drag of his home-made cigar. "Hullo Hermione," he said, giggling ecstatically. "Haven't seen you 'round for a while." 

"Yeah," agreed Susan Bones, taking the cigar from Justin and taking her own drag, deliberately blowing smoke on Hermione. "Finally got your dusty little nose out of a book, did you?" She looked at Hermione disapprovingly and gave her a tight smile. No one really liked Hermione coming to the Saturday night piss-ups because she had a reputation to be a party pooper. 

Hermione pressed her lips together, suppressing a retort and turned to Justin. "Have you seen Harry and Ron?" 

He shook his head. "Sorry." 

"_I_ have," said Susan indignantly. Hermione forced herself to look back at her. "I saw them go into the Girl's Dorm. A group of Slytherins managed to dislodge the anti-boy ward." Susan and Justin exchanged glances and then burst out laughing, clutching each other and ignoring Hermione. 

She walked away from the two Hufflepuffs and tried to shuffle through the loud, obnoxious crowd. 

A few forth year Hufflepuffs had formed a rock band and were playing loudly. Hermione had to side-step to squeeze through the throng of moving teenagers; same dancing half-heartily, some just standing around, and most talking loudly and flopping around the place like drunk rag-dolls. The foursome who unofficially called themselves 'Girls Aloud' had drawn up a table to the centre of the room and had gotten themselves on top to dance a strip-tease. 

Lavender, Parvati, Padma and Parkinson were twirling their clothes around and when they saw Hermione they got a little more energetic in their dancing just to spite her. Hermione pressed her lips into a very angry grimace and turned away. She was almost to the Girls' Dormitory door, when something soft, light and warm landed on her head. 

She picked the violet bra off her head and spun around to see the four girls laughing at her. Parkinson had one arm across her breasts to cover her nipples, and the other was waving at her sarcastically. 

"You really shouldn't _steal_ other people's _things_, Book Worm," she shouted over the top of the music. The girls laughed. 

Hermione glared, bundled the bra up into a ball and threw it back. Then she pivoted around and stomped away, bumping hard into a snogging couple before making her way up the stairs of the Hufflepuff Girls' Dormitories. 

She looked into some of the rooms, until she opened a random door and saw Ron, Harry and Goyle sitting together on a bed. Strange panting sounds were coming from within the room. 

Ron was the first to see her standing in the doorway. "Hey Hermione," he exclaimed happily, opening his arms in greeting. "Come in, Babe!" 

"Don't call me that, Ron," she scolded as she made to sit down. Before she could sit down properly, however, Ron grabbed her small hips and roughly moved her to sit between him and Harry. The boys' large muscular arms pressed against her and she felt as if they were guarding her. She shifted to get comfortable and Harry sipped on his paper cup of alcohol while Ron took a drag of his joint. 

Then she started. On the next bed, a girl was lying on her chest, her face pressed to the sheets and matted with sweaty hair. Her hips had been pulled up so her knees dug into the bed and her skirt had been pushed up. Thrusting hard into her, his trousers in a pool of material around his ancles, was Malfoy. 

Hermione had to bite her tongue hard to stop her first wave of nausea. She had seen this before, many times; it was a favourite hobby between the older Wizards. "So who's winning?" she muttered quietly. 

Harry ignored her obvious resentment and held up his cup in his own personal toast. "I am," he said, grinning. "Ron's already lost." 

In the background, Malfoy's groaning and humming got louder. Ron scowled. "Can't believe he hasn't blown yet," he said. 

There was also groaning from Goyle, but of a different kind. "I think I'm gonna be sick…" he muttered, trying to lean on Harry who kept pushing him off. Hermione turned to Malfoy.

"Isn't she like, fourteen?" 

A grey eye peered through mattered silver locks and blinked at her. Malfoy grinned. "Oh," he panted, his thrusting never slowing, "I thought she was younger." 

Hermione took a deep breath but then regretted it when the potent smell of sex invaded her nostrils. "Hey!" Harry exclaimed suddenly. "Goyle's time is nearly up. I'm gonna win!" Then he grabbed the stick of rolled up leaves from Ron and took his own triumphant drag. 

"Ah," said Malfoy, "ahhhh…" 

Harry stood up, spilling some of his drink on Goyle, who had just bent over in the brace position. "You can't go yet, Malfoy, fuck!" 

"Shut… up, Potter," Malfoy bit out, and he thrust faster and harder, his fingers digging deep into the flesh on he nameless girl's hips. Harry sat down and started to panic. 

"Not yet," he muttering to himself and checking his watch. "_Not yet…_" 

Malfoy suddenly froze, his flushed face screwed and his shoulders shuddering with every convulsion. He gripped the girl harder and let out a small cry. Hermione averted her eyes, but regretted it a second later when Goyle turned his head, leant over the end of the bed and regurgitated on the floor. 

Ron groaned and Harry swore, and then pushed a passed out Goyle off the bed. "Fuck that's disgusting," said Harry as he threw the empty cup and stub across the room. 

Malfoy pulled up his trousers and did them up. "Yeah," he said, smirking in a dazed sort of way. "But he won." 

"Nah," cried Ron instantly, standing up. "He was passed out!" 

"Yeah," said Harry, and he too stood up. Together they looked strong and unstoppable. "That money's mine." 

Malfoy suddenly narrowed eyes. "You two better pay up by tomorrow night," he growled softly, "or you'll find yourself head deep in giant's shit before your first lesson the next morning." 

Harry and Ron were unfazed. "It doesn't work that way, Malfoy," Ron sneered. 

Malfoy, who had been making his way towards the door stopped close to the Gryffindors and cocked an eyebrow inquiringly. "No? How about…" he trailed off and glanced at Hermione. "We do this again; winner takes all." 

Hermione stood up, alarmed, and Harry frowned. "Who…" but then he stopped, because Malfoy was staring at Hermione. 

Ron suddenly grabbed Malfoy by the shirt collar and manhandled him to the door. Malfoy, however, was also an athlete and just as strong as Ron, and he punched hard into Ron's stomach, winding him just as Harry kicked Malfoy in the groin and Ron and Malfoy both doubled over. 

"Potter you cunt," gasped Malfoy. "I'm extra-sensitive there at the moment, you know!" 

"Then stay the fuck away from her," spat Harry, his eyes flashing fiercely. 

Hermione was standing there, staring blankly as Ron sat on the bed clutching his stomach and Harry grabbed Malfoy's hair roughly to aim a punch in his jaw. Her sigh was unheard as she turned away. She let them play, fight and fuck. She had read somewhere that Wizards had to do this in their early manhood, as part of their natural development. That had been the first time she had ever really doubted the information found in books. But, she knew that Wizard culture was an old one, and not a new democratic culture like Muggle Western Civilization. This was the way things were. 

She pushed the sleeping girl down on her back, moving the skirt down to cover her abused flesh, and then moved to do up the nameless girl's shirt. Hermione froze, staring suddenly at the two tender mounds of flesh glaring beautifully, like an offering, or sacrifice. 

Hermione thought that maybe she should be mourning or angry for the girl, or something, but instead she just felt emptiness inside. Every time she sees them lying, frozen and bent, something inside her screams, cries and dies. And always, no one hears a thing. 

She covered the girl with a clean blanket and continued to stare dazedly at nothing in particular. At one point, the boys had stopped fighting, Malfoy had left and a bruised and bloodied Harry and Ron had come to stand beside her. 

Harry put and arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Was there a reason you came to find us?" he asked. 

"Yes," she croaked, then cleared her throat as she snaked an arm around Harry's waist and rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm scared to go to bed tonight." 

Hermione had always found silence and solitude in the room she shared with two girls who were never there. If Harry and Ron were surprised, they did not show it. "Then," said Ron quietly, "you'll just have to come with us." He grasped her free hand and they left the room in which Goyle was groaning in his sleep unnoticed. 

The good thing with having two male hormonal Quidditch-Professionals-In-Training as best friends, Hermione realized, was that what had taken her ten minutes to get through a crowd of intoxicated teenagers, took the trio only a few seconds. Ron and Harry and grown tall, large and strong in their adolescence, as well as overconfident. Hermione was squashed between them as they moved through the crowd; Ron and Harry shoving and elbowing people aggressively away so they could get through. 

Half an hour later, and the trio were seated in the dark Gryffindor Common Room, munching on Ron's emergency cookie stash. 

"I don't think he's coming out tonight," Ron confessed after what seemed like hours of tense anticipation. 

"Shh," hissed Hermione. "He might." 

"But Hermione," Harry whispered, "you said that you were dreaming when he came. Maybe you have to be asleep to see him." 

Hermione looked into Harry's green glittering eyes. "I don't want him to visit me in my sleep," she whispered harshly. "It's wrong." 

Harry's look was sympathetic; she could see it, even in the shadows. "Yeah, I know, but it might be the only way." 

"Anyway," whispered Ron through a mouthful of food, "it's kind of pointless waiting for someone in the dark." 

"I told you Ron," she said, rolling her eyes, "he likes the shadows!" 

"He might not. You don't know." 

"Yes I do," she said exasperatingly. "He's _my_ dream guy, isn't he?" 

"Dream Guy?" Harry asked suddenly, mirth tinting his whispers. "Is there more to this story, Hermione?" 

"No," gasped Hermione. 

"Oh," said Ron, "that explains why you want to meet him!" 

"Of course not!" she snapped. She suddenly stood up, sick of their impatient boredom and stomped up the stairs to the Boys' Dormitories. 

She undressed quickly until she was only in her knickers and vest, and slid under the covers of Harry's bed. At some point during the day before, she had figured out that the sad and lost Shadow Boy was the same who was calling for his soul the night of his almost-resurrection. If no one else saw him, if she was the only one, if he was only calling for her… 

She had to help him. There was no other way. 

A few minutes later, Harry and Ron came into the room. She heard them undress and then dress themselves in pajamas, and they slid into bed on either side of her. Harry spooned himself against her back and Ron hugged her from the front; their strong arms safe and warm. 

It was not the first time the three had slept together, but this was the first time they did it for Hermione. They usually comforted for Ron when he was depressed about Charlie, or when Harry was grieving over Sirius, but never for Hermione, whose detachment towards her family allowed them to be safe in the other world. Their hands never wandered in their dozy comfort. Ron was not allowed to touch her like that anymore. 

Hermione slept deeply, and when she awoke, she was alone in the bed. She was not surprised by this, as Ron and Harry practiced Quidditch whenever they could, but she was surprised to see one of the beds had its curtains closed tightly. 

She yawned and got dressed silently, but before she put her shoes on, her curiousity got the better of her tiptoed to the side of the strangely silent and hidden bed. _Silencing charm_, she thought. 

A mischievous smile crossed her lips and a hand reached out to gently open the curtains… 

A sudden yelp was heard as the silence charm shimmered and broke, and a flushed and naked body tangled in sheets fell off the bed and landed on her feet. 

"Hermione!" Anthony Goldstein shrieked. "I – I… um, hi!" 

Before a startled Hermione could say anything, Seamus pulled back the curtains. "Shit!" His head disappeared again and Anthony and Hermione rolled their eyes. 

Anthony gulped. "What, er, are you doing here?" he asked before letting out a nervous giggle. 

Hermione recovered and put her hands on her hips, peering down at his mused black hair and red face disapprovingly. "I could ask you the same thing," she said. "In fact, I'm a Prefect and I should go right now and find McGonagall, Ravenclaw." 

She was only being half-serious and Anthony smiled. They had become good friends through the whole Dumbledore's Army thing. "Yes, but see, so am I, _Gryffindor_," he mocked. "And it looks like you've been very a naughty girl." 

Hermione suddenly realized he was right and she pressed her lips together. Girls were not allowed in the Boys' Dormitories. 

Seamus' head appeared again. "Aye," he agreed, "what are you doing 'ere, Hermione?" He grinned. "Oh, I see. Shagging Ron, is it?" 

"No!" she cried. "No way." 

"Besides," said Anthony, making himself comfortable on the floor, "Ron's bed was empty last night. It was Harry's that was occupied." 

Hermione decided to not think about how Anthony had come to know the Gryffindor Boys' Dormitory so well. Seamus said happily, "Ah, so it's Harry you had, then?" 

"Nice one, Hermione, he's a nice catch," said Anthony as Hermione glared sleepily at Seamus. 

Seamus was offended. "Hey…" 

"I'm not shagging either of them," Hermione clarified loudly. Seamus withdrew back behind the curtains moodily and Anthony tried to reassure him that he _did not fancy Harry Potter_. Their attention was not on Hermione anymore, so she put on her shoes and left. 

Her first stop was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's office. Crookshanks, strangely, followed her there, not straying further than a metre from her ancles. He had that scared, wide-eyed look cats often have, and it made Hermione frown worriedly. She got to the large wooden door and knocked loudly. 

"Come in," called Bill Weasley, and Hermione came in and shut the door. 

He smiled indulgently from behind his desk; his tall, lean frame completely relaxed and his blue eyes shone happily. "Good morning, Professor Weasley," said Hermione shyly. 

He sat up and folded his hands on the desk. He smiled, and something about the way he was looking at her made her stomach clench unpleasantly. "Please," he murmured, "call me Bill when we're alone, Hermione," he smiled that enigmatic smile again and she forced herself to return it. "Besides, you're practically family." 

There would be a day when she would wish she had not heard him say that. 

Hermione swallowed and said, "I came here to sign up for the Defense Association." 

"You were already put on the list." 

She nodded just as the door opened and Parkinson came in. 

The Slytherin stopped stunned. "Ooh," she said, "so sorry to interrupt." She did not sound the least bit sorry. 

Hermione rounded on her, no quite sure why she felt so angry. "You should always knock a teacher's door before you come in," she snapped. 

Parkinson just smirked and stepped forward towards the very amused Professor. "I want to join the D.A." she demanded.

Professor Weasley nodded. "You're on." Parkinson pivoted and strutted out of the office. Hermione said goodbye and followed. 

"Parkinson," Hermione called after the girl's retreating back before she knew what she was doing. The Slytherin stopped and turned, eyebrows raised. Her blonde hair was pushed back by a headband and she wore a jumper and skirt. As Hermione walked towards her she realized that Parkinson's skirt was short, and her legs were firm and slender and maybe a tad too long for her body. Hermione tore her eyes away, stopped walking and put her hands on her hips. "You shouldn't talk to professors like that you know," she said briskly. "It's very rude." 

"Well _ excuse me_," said Parkinson sarcastically, "but I can do whatever I damn well please." She smiled nastily. "I mean, who, may I ask, is Head Girl, and who, pray tell, isn't?" 

Hermione's jaw clenched and her eyes flashed angrily. She bit back the urge to growl. 

Parkinson pretended to tap her foot with impatience and she fiddled with her badge. "Well?" she teased. 

"Why," Hermione bit out, "are you joining the D.A.?" 

The blonde suddenly laughed loudly. She clapped her hands together. "What is it of your business, Book Worm?" She stopped and tapped her chin in mock thoughtfulness. "Funny, I was under the impression that the Defense Association was a club for anyone who wanted to join." 

Hermione tucked a lock of hair behind her ear angrily. "It's for people who want to fight in the war!" 

"Well," said Parkinson, "I want to fight in the war." 

"On the _ right side_, Parkinson." 

"And who are _you_, oh lowly Prefect, to say what is right and what is wrong?" Hermione hesitated, and Parkinson sighed. "Look, I hate to tell you this, but you're a really boring person and I have things to do." 

Pansy saw the flicker of curious hurt in Granger's expression before she walked away and left Granger standing in the corridor. 

And then Pansy was walking down the Hufflepuff corridor that was lined with open windows and where no teachers went. It was a beautiful detour, Pansy thought, but that morning just was not one of her mornings, and she tensed as she passed _them_. 

They were smoking silently and they glared menacingly at her. _I'm stronger than this_, she thought. _Don't let them get to you!_ And usually, she would not care if people hated her; Granger, for example, was easy to hate, but there was just that small part of her heart that would not let them go. 

She was almost past the three sharp figures, and she held her head high but she was trembling inside. Sigma Avery was the first to say anything. "Ssslut," she hissed quietly, and the other two snickered. 

"She looks like a cheap skank with her last season shoes," murmured Blaise Zabini loudly. Pansy was almost past… almost gone… but she was stronger and angrier and she stopped. 

Pansy turned to him and glared. "Well at least I'm not a deprived poof who wears neon green vests under his robes," she spat, and then she walked away before they could have the last word. 

She was still trembling when she sat down at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. She did not care about what Zabini thought – he had never really mattered – but the way Sigma hissed at her with such hatred, and how deep down she felt like Artemis might defend her… Pansy felt sick inside, like a black bottomless hole was swirling longingly in her chest, and the fog so thick she could not see inside herself to see how she _really _felt. _Fuck them_, she thought. _Fuck them, I hate…_ And their glaring eyes never left her mind. 

"Ignore them, Pansy," said Millicent. "They just like getting a rise out of people. They do it to everyone." 

"Yeah," said Pansy, looking around at all the food but not really seeing it. "Yes, of course they do."

-TBC-


	3. Recruit

**Chapter Three – Recruit **

_They'll find it in each other  
She loves her, she loves him  
Will she recover?  
Something ends, to begin_

This was how things were. 

Pansy Parkinson would tell anyone who listened that she had been in love with Draco Malfoy since she was eleven. She had her own little 'gang' of three other Slytherin girls, and made sure that she was the 'leader' amongst them, especially when Sigma Avery would subtly challenge her power. She was young and happy and confident. 

But things between friends always changed, especially when living with them most of each year. Time in boarding schools went a little faster than everywhere else. 

She would never admit it, but she loved Sigma Avery and Artemis Moon very much. She did not love Millicent Bulstrode all that much though; she was like a neutral tag-along, Pansy thought. 

Then it was forth year and Pansy's dreams came true. Draco asked her out. 

She started talking to Millicent a bit more because Millicent had somehow, without Pansy really noticing, become good friends with Crabbe and Goyle, and Crabbe and Goyle were Draco's best friends. Before she knew it, she had been ignoring Sigma and Artemis for her boyfriend, but it never mattered at the time, because she was in love. She ignored the fact that Artemis was impossibly shy and only ever talked in front of Sigma and Pansy (their friendship was that strong), and after Pansy seemed to abandon her friends, Artemis got horribly depressed. 

She had her Draco. It was all okay. 

Things started shifting strangely in their fifth year. Draco knew things the others did not. Things about Sirius Black, about the Dark Lord, about Harry Potter, and he would not tell anyone anything. Pansy stuck close to his side but Crabbe and Goyle were not so loyal to him anymore. The two large boys moved on and stuck to Millicent instead, and Millicent left Pansy's gang, while Draco became friends with the Wonder Duo Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. 

Suddenly Sigma and Artemis did not want to be friends with Pansy anymore. 

Just as suddenly, Zabini said something to Draco and Nott that made them hate him with a passion. 

Pansy and Draco had lost most of their friends, but they had each other. They were in love, and it was okay. Pansy became friends with two Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw, and Draco was friends with Nott. 

But then something crashed, and burned, and simmered in ugliness, choking Draco and making him ache. Blood splattered during the night and Pansy screamed for him. 

Sometime during their sixth year, Lucius Malfoy was murdered. 

Draco seemed to waver; his eyes were often blurred and distant, and he bled on bathroom tiles. He and Pansy no long made love. Instead, Draco fucked her. He was violent, and he found pleasure in pain, and good pain in his own pleasure. 

Pansy would tell herself, _it's just the way things are_, now Mr. Malfoy is dead. Draco needed time alone; do not ask where he has been. Do not ask him why he smells like girls' perfume sometimes. Do not ask him why he grabs and hurts and hits and bites harshly. It will all go away soon, and you can live happily ever after. 

It will. 

And Sigma could be as mean and nasty as she liked. It never hurt Pansy. Never. No. 

Now Draco was sitting on the cold boys' toilet floor and Pansy was sitting there with him and trying to clean him up. 

"He loved me," Draco babbled. "He loved me and I never did enough… If I had done more, maybe he wouldn't have left. Maybe he will come back, if I try…" 

"Of course he loved you," said Pansy soothingly as she tied a toilet paper square transfigured to rope around his inner elbow to stop the blood from flowing so freely. "He did all those nice things for you: bought the whole Quidditch team brooms, tried to get that horrible Halfblood fired…" She grabbed more toilet paper and attempted to soak up the mess. "No father would do all those things if he didn't love his son." 

Draco was pale, cold and trembling. "Then why did he leave me?" 

Pansy felt her eyes water. "He never left, Draco. Not really." She stopped, exhausted and leaned her head against his. "You have to stop hurting yourself like this, Draco." She held his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. "Please." 

He did not say anything. Moments later, Nott found them, and he and Pansy got Draco to bed. 

Hours later, Hermione let out a loud, frustrated noise. "Where the Hell is Ginny?" 

Some Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were sparring on the cold grounds of Hogwarts. Ron threw the signal and he and Terry stopped. "I don't bloody know, Hermione," Ron panted. 

"Well I'm sick of looking for her. If she wants Potions tutoring she has to at least show up!" 

Ron threw up his hands in defeat. "I know," he said, "she's just been sad lately." Then he frowned, remembering something. "You know, she's been hanging around Bill a lot, especially after," he looked at her seriously, "after, you know, Charlie –"

"Yes," said Hermione quickly. "Yes, of course. Just tell her, if you see her, that she can't keep running away." 

Around the time that Hermione walked back into the Hogwarts castle, Pansy entered the Gryffindor Study Room. 

"You're late," snapped Padma as Pansy approached the table exclusively reserved by Girls Aloud members. It was a private group, set up by the four members just for fun at first, but eventually Padma had made things a little too serious for Pansy's liking. "That's another point against you. If you're not careful we might vote you out." 

"Oh, settle down," murmured Pansy as she sat in the chair next to Lavender. Pansy and Parvati exchanged glances and they both suppressed the urge to roll their eyes. 

"I'm President," continued Padma, "and what I say goes." 

"Mmm. Let's just get on with it, shall we?" 

Padma, annoyed, shifted in her seat next to her twin, as Lavender spoke up. "As you know, my favourite portrait to talk to is Maurice the Amazing on the bottom floor. He always has the best gossip." 

"Alright, Lav, hurry it along." Padma was only being bossy to make sure she still held her power within the four. 

"Apparently Anthony Goldstein is shagging Seamus _and_ Blaise Zabini!" Lavender and Pavarti giggled and grabbed each others hands across the table. 

"Do they know?" asked Padma seriously. 

"No," said Pansy quietly. "Zabini wouldn't allow something like that to go on." 

Padma broke out into a triumphant smirk. "Then that means we have some fabulous bribing material." 

Suddenly Lavender looked frightened. "Oh no! You can't do that to Seamus!" 

"Well, if Goldstein co-operates, we won't have to." 

The rest of the meeting went much the same way, comparing research and notes, discussing conversations had with people, gathering gossip and finding use for it, speaking of latest fashions, interesting curses and moves for the Combat Tournament held every Friday night, hair styles, make-up, and how to manipulate these female expertise for gain. Afterwards, the four friends walked around the school and the grounds, checking out the best hiding places, spying places, and if they came across anyone, they would take them in with their eyes and talk in whispers about what they were wearing, how their hair was and past gossip affiliated with that person. 

Their routine ended early, when Lavender complained of feeling sick. 

Thursday had Potions first which even Hermione did not appreciate having first thing in the morning. She sat, as usual, between Harry and Ron, their large muscled arms and clumsy elbows always pushed into her sides, making her feel small and slight, but protected. In the world in which they lived, she suspected that was why they were always on either side of her: to protect her from those other boys who leered at girls and dragged them into empty darkness where they could be found hours later, plundered and abused but with no case against the wizards who rendered them tainted. She would even see Snape glancing down the open blouse of student, and Hermione would shudder, then Harry and Ron would push closer, and they would swear silently that they would never let each other go. 

Some time during the lesson, Malfoy asked permission to leave because he had to do something urgent. Snape granted him leave, of course, and he hurried out. Hermione glanced at Parkinson, Malfoy's girlfriend, who sat with Lavender and Parvati, but Parkinson did not seem to notice. Perhaps Malfoy often left class early and maybe Parkinson did not care. Gazing at the Slytherin now, Hermione mused that her hair was soft; strands were thick and healthy and dark blonde, cascading down and over her shoulder blades as she bent over her cauldron. Parvati said something, then, and when Parkinson turned to whisper something back, Hermione saw her profile; sharp and hard features, strong cheek bones and a slightly upturned nose. Parkinson said something again, whispering close to Parvati's ear, and Hermione thought she saw Parkinson's lips graze the other girl's lobe, and Hermione clenched her teeth as she found herself not understanding whatever it was she was suddenly feeling. Hermione did not like not understanding things. 

She looked away and did not look back for the rest of the lesson. 

Hermione did notice, however, when Parkinson skipped the next class. 

Ron yawned loudly as Hagrid stood in front of the class and talked of ice fairies and their strange disappearance during summertime and _they breed in the winter season, their dancing often mistaken for small snow storms. The small filaments on their wings can be scraped and contained, added mainly in potions used for forced hallucinations, associated with the cold and snow, within the ice element._ Hermione wrote class notes in her notebook furiously. _High level frozen-fire spell when brewing potions within the ice element._ There was a small commotion as the back of the assembled students where the Slytherins stood. 

Hermione looked up to scowl at the small interference, even though Hagrid had not noticed. Malfoy had run across the grass to the class, his face flushed, hair mused and sweaty and his robes uncharacteristically disarranged. 

Malfoy and sex; it was an everyday occurrence. 

And Parkinson was nowhere to be seen. 

_He had just done things with her only a few minutes ago, so what? _

Hermione fiddled with the pages of her notebook as she waited for the churning of raw disgust in her stomach to dissipate. 

_Ice fairies, Hermione. Adults are approximately seven centimeters tall, or a normal hand span – _

Concentrate. 

_- and each wing is the same length as their bodies, about an inch or two in width, precise formula: WS divided by 6.4 – _

Hermione abruptly turned her face towards Harry's just as Hagrid bent over a couple of large wooden crates. Sensing her movement, Harry inclined his head towards her lips. 

"I'm going," she whispered in his ear. 

"What?" he exclaimed, but she was already walking up the grassy hill. 

Pansy had been with Anthony Goldstein and Blaise Zabini when they saw Malfoy leave an empty classroom sweaty and flustered. The three were still frozen with mild shock, standing in the middle of the dark corridor, when five minutes later a small blonde girl came out of the same classroom with half her clothes bundled in her arms. She ran away and disappeared out of sight. 

"Bugger," said Zabini with a snicker as Pansy spat on the stone floor. 

"The things you find out when you skip class," agreed Anthony. Pansy narrowed her eyes at nothing. Anthony was her friend, and she never hung around Zabini without the Ravenclaw there, but Anthony could be such a goody-goody sometimes. 

"Are you going to cry?" Zabini murmured, smirking. He was enjoying this way too much. 

"Of course not," she snapped, and she was surprised to find that she was not lying about it, either. "Let's just go to the bloody Commons, already." 

They walked through the corridors lazily, and Pansy felt herself drift off a bit, thinking about nothing, looking at nothing, feeling nothing, and not even noticing when Anthony and Zabini started holding hands. 

"_Blood traitor_," said Zabini and the door to the Slytherin Common Room slid open. 

They walked into the green, silver and dark-yet-warm room. All of a sudden, as one, they froze for the second time in the last half hour. 

Granger lifted her chin defiantly as she sat on a soft, leather couch. For all her confidence, the way she clutched tightly to her book bag did not go unnoticed. 

"Granger," murmured Pansy bitingly, "nice to see you like to haunt places you're not wanted. How very Gryffindor of you." Pansy and Granger narrowed their eyes at each other. "Or did you just get lost on your way to the library?" 

"We'll just um…" mumbled Anthony with a swallow, and then Pansy realized he was nervous for some reason. "We'll just go over here, shall we?" he croaked as he tugged on Zabini's hand. They sat down on a couch near the fire. 

Granger's attention was on Anthony, and that annoyed Pansy. Then something occurred to her that made her all the more angry. "Draco isn't here," she snapped harshly. 

Granger tensed and she turned to look at Pansy in horror. "What?" she gasped. "You – you think I'm here to –" Her eyes widened when Pansy gave her a look. "That's hideous! No, I'm – I'm here to see _you!_" 

Pansy raised her eyebrows. _Right…_ "What do you want, Book Worm?" _ This should be good._

The Gryffindor stood up and squared her shoulders again. "I saw you that night," she said loudly. 

Pansy glanced at Anthony and Zabini. They were staring. She sighed. "Would you like to talk somewhere else?" she said obviously enough for the two boys to hear so that maybe they would bugger off on their own. 

There was a shifting of weight as Granger glanced around, suddenly awkward. "Um, where? Your room, maybe?" 

Pansy laughed and flicked a golden strand of hair out of her face. She felt in control of Granger suddenly, and it was rather good. "You know, I rather not," she drawled. "Don't know what you're like." 

Granger flushed. 

"We'll go for a walk around the grounds, shall we?" 

"No," said Granger. "There's something you have that I want to see." 

Mirthfully, "Oh, really?"

"The book you were chanting from." 

Pansy's smile snapped off. 

"I'm not stupid," continued Granger, suddenly angry. "Go get it, and then we can go for this walk." 

Pansy stared for a moment. Then she said quietly, "How did you –" 

"I just do." 

"It might not have been me." 

There was triumph in Granger's eyes. "It was. Now," she murmured deliberately, almost seductively, "go get that book, and then we can go for a walk." 

Ten minutes later and the two girls were walking across the lawn together, not talking, and not looking at each other. The grass was bright, lush and soggy with recent rain. The wind was chilly as if a cold breath was trying to blow Pansy's growing nervousness away. Care of Magical Creatures was only just ending, so they steered clear of the class and headed instead in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. 

Pansy had gone and retrieved the book from under her bed, then charmed it to a small size so it fit nicely in her palm and pocket. When she had come back down to the Common Room, Hermione had been talking to Anthony and Zabini, though the conversation looked far from amicable. Pansy made a note to ask about that later. 

She turned to the girl next to her, who was walking fast and purposefully, her chin stuck high in the air. 

"I'm only going to do this if you do something for me." 

Granger looked unsurprised. "Oh?" 

"It's about Draco." 

The Gryffindor still would not look at her. "Isn't it always?" 

Blinking, Pansy was slightly thrown by her bitterness. _Were you expecting anything different?_

They were coming to a shadowed collection of trees behind the Hufflepuff changing rooms when Pansy said with some reluctance, "He's cheating on me." 

This got Granger's attention, and she whipped around to stare at Pansy in surprise. They stopped, and just looked at each other. 

Granger got over her shock quickly, and then she squinted at Pansy, apparently trying to look for something in her expression. "And what do you want from me?" Granger asked, still with that strange look on her face. 

Pansy shrugged, suddenly feeling a pang of sorrow, followed by defeat. "Find information, evidence, anything. Make plans, scheme, something that I can get back at him with." They continued to look at each other; Granger had such a soft, light and kind face, and her hair looked healthy and curly, the kind of hair Pansy thought she could curl her fingers through and feel the thick strands in her fists. "I want the death to end too, you know." 

The girl with the beautiful hair must have felt pity then, because her expression softened and she reached out to touch Pansy, but thinking better of it dropped her hand and sighed. 

"Alright," she said quietly, "deal." 

They walked again and entered the small cluster of thick trees; Pansy taking delight in the cool shadows. They sat down next to each other on a large root, and Pansy took out the book and charmed it back to its original size. Immediately it was out of her hands, and she was stunned by Granger's sudden grab for it. 

The book was large, heavy, very old and nameless. It was yellowed, ripped and worn with age, and some of the text was hard to read due to fading. Pansy watched Granger flick through it, completely absorbed, as Pansy stretched her own legs out, pushing her robes away to rub them. There was peace in the small wood, afternoon sun shone through in beams, birds sang and the chatter of far away students could be heard. 

"This is…" Granger looked up. "Um, it's very extensive. Have you read all of it?" 

"_Yes,_" Pansy snapped, but her heart was not really in it. "Several times, in fact." 

Granger's lips parted in awe. "_Several_ times? But it must have taken you a while. I mean – it should take a normal person –" 

"No," said Pansy, "I just borrowed it for some light reading at first, and I finished it in about three days, before reading it a few more times after I realized it could be really useful." 

Granger was still gaping, and she looked a bit dazzled. "Light reading…?" she murmured. 

Pansy raised an eyebrow. She cleared her throat and abruptly changed the subject. "So what do you want with it, anyway?" 

The other girl blinked out of her stare and pressed her lips together. "There's that boy… the boy you killed…" She looked away. "He came to me." 

"What?" Now it was Pansy's turn to stare, but it was far from awe. She shook slightly, as fear crept up on her slowly, and she gripped the rough root beneath them. "What do you mean? He can't do that, he's dead!" 

"He might be a ghost," said Granger, but the girl did not look very convinced by her own suggestion. 

"Or the spell could have worked… though that's pretty impossible." 

Suddenly Granger looked angry and fierce. "Then why did you do it?" 

"Draco," Pansy reassured, "Draco wants to… Though resurrection is impossible, you can still sort of… do it." 

Granger frowned. "What do you mean?" 

Pansy ignored her question. "What did you do with the body?" 

Now Granger looked frightened. "What?" she gasped. 

Pansy stood up and over her. "The body. We couldn't risk going back there, and you were last there, so did you do something with the body?" 

"Well, no," said Granger as she, too, stood and dusted herself off. "I was kind of in shock, to be perfectly honest." 

"Then he might be alive." 

Granger gripped Pansy's arm suddenly, desperately. "What do we do?" 

Pansy hesitated. She had not wanted to get any more involved than she was. "Um, I don't know," she mumbled honestly. 

Then they were quiet, staring at each other again. 

After a moment, Pansy said, a little shakily, "You have the book, it might help you." And then suddenly could not stand looking in Granger's large, sad brown eyes anymore, so she turned to leave before saying over her shoulder, "Meet me with the group tomorrow night; I'm going to need the book back from you." 

Hermione was determined to go through her classes without wandering concentration, and when they were over she was still thinking about Parkinson and her strange situation. Hermione could not imagine having a boyfriend who cheated and lied all the time. How could Parkinson stay with him? 

She was gathering some work books in her room to take down to the Commons when something out the window caught her eye. When she did look, she gasped and the books fell to the floor. 

Standing on the lawn down below, was the boy. 

He seemed like a cut-out from a black and white movie against the dark green of the grass and distant trees; all different shades of shadow, and his distinctly large eyes were staring right at her, meaningfully. 

There was no mistake – it was _him_. 

Hermione jumped slightly when he moved. He turned, and walked away, and not like a ghost floating either – more stiffly and jerking, as if he did not know the correct use of his limbs. 

Before she knew what she was doing, was running down the stairs, through the Common Room, through the portrait hole and down many corridors and stairs until she was outside, facing the place where he had just stood minutes ago. She was breathing in the cold air heavily, and she looked around frantically, until her eyes found something solid in the distance. 

There was someone sitting, huddled, near the edge of the forest. 

She built up some courage from inside and approached. When she was near enough to identify the person, she gave a small cry and ran towards him. 

Kneeling down next to him, she put a comforting arm around Harry's shoulders. She could not see his face. "Are you alright Harry? What are you doing out here in the cold?" 

His tone was a strange monotone; nothing like Hermione had ever heard from him before. "Lavender… Beautiful Lavender." 

"Oh, Harry…"

"…So warm and tight…" 

Hermione suddenly felt very uncomfortable. 

"…Small in my arms… Have you seen her Hermione? Tasted her?" 

Hermione blushed and swallowed. "Um, Harry…" 

"She's gone," he whispered. Then he turned to her very slowly, though his hair still covered his eyes, and Hermione felt fear and the cold of the almost-night seeping through her robes to touch her, violate her. "Sirius is gone, but, he came back to me." He smiled slowly. "He's back, Hermione, _he's back_." He turned away again and pointed in the direction of the woods. 

There was small movement there, and after a few seconds, Hermione realized it was a large black dog, moving spasmodically towards them. 

- TBC -


	4. Resent

**Chapter Four - Resent**  
  
_It hurts her when her friends do cry  
And his love is poison-ous  
There is mourning, there is lie  
Then she says, 'What about us?'_  
  
Friday afternoon, and it was raining outside.  
  
The drops were large and clear, and they splattered madly against the glass of the high window in the Girls' Dormitory. Pansy listened to the calming patter while she sat on her bed doing homework. She had wanted to avoid people, and for a little while she had.  
  
Draco walked into the room and slammed the door behind him.  
  
They had not fixed the faulty charm on the stairs yet. _Bastards._  
  
Pansy looked up, but with caution. She knew that frantic, angry, _crazed_ look on his face all too well.  
  
And predictably, he strode straight over and pushed all her work - parchments, books, quills, ink bottle - on the floor where they fell into a pathetic heap.  
  
She braced herself. "Don't," she said, but it came out in a mumble and anyway, even if she had screamed it, he would not have heard her.  
  
It was far from prudent to struggle anymore so she let herself get pushed against the sheets roughly, and he was fumbling with his fly with one hand, and pushing up her skirt with the other, so she made quick decisions.  
  
_It won't hurt, but only if I prepare myself. _  
  
She closed her eyes and tried to will her body to accept, to be wet, to think sexy things.  
  
_Relax. _Something tore, and she realized it was her shirt as he ripped it open.  
  
_Okay, what did I do yesterday? Anthony and Blaise make a hot couple… Yes… Umm… I talked to Granger about…  
  
Granger. _  
  
Pansy thought about her, and her innocent face, her full lips, her seductive looks, her thick hair, her full breasts.  
  
Naked breasts and long luscious hair barely covering them, Granger sitting in class, her legs spread. Eyes raised skyward, neck exposed.   
  
Draco pushed.  
  
And it did not hurt.  
  
Good.  
  
He was heavy and moving on her, his fingers dug into her hips painfully. Her head was turned away but his panting was still heard, and every now and again, we would moan, groan, and mumble things.  
  
"_Yesss… So good…_"  
  
Pansy shut her eyes tighter.  
  
Pansy's hands on Granger, kisses on a thigh, on a nipple.  
  
Draco was getting louder. "_Father, I'll do it… for you…_" Pansy, as usual, pretended not to hear. She gripped the sheets. He was going too fast and hard and it was starting to hurt.  
  
But Draco was almost gone, and just when he came, he bit out a name.  
  
Pansy pretended not to hear that, too.  
  
The sun was setting and there were a large group of seventh years gathered at the edge of the forest.  
  
Ron put an arm around Hermione's shoulders as they made their way toward the loud, laughing group in the darkness. Harry had said he had not wanted to come. Hermione feared for him; he had vomited, and was sick and pale, and often slept. Lavender was the same.  
  
"…This new move," Neville was saying excitedly. "I do my trademark kick -"  
  
"That is no trademark!" laughed Padma. "I taught you that move! It's old news."  
  
"You're such a ruddy cow sometimes," said Michael amicably. "I'm gonna kick your cute little arse tonight!" He slapped her on the bum, she squealed and there was loud laughter from everyone.  
  
"So you going to fight tonight, Hermione?" asked Parvati, and everyone looked at Hermione, only just noticing she was there.  
  
"Um… No, not tonight."  
  
There was a tense silence and no one was surprised.  
  
Seamus cracked a joke and the others started laughing again, but Ron was talking quietly in her ear. "You should come out with us, you know," he said. "We have so much fun. Better than hanging out with those old giants."  
  
"But that's important, Ron."  
  
"Nah. These are our friends, and it's very un-Gryffindor of you not to want to kick some Slytherin arse." He removed his arm and went to go chat up Mandy Brocklehurst, who immediately took the bait and started talking enthusiastically.  
  
Hermione checked her watch, then froze when she felt warm breath on the back of her neck. She tried to look fascinated with the grass bellow her as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the minimized book.  
  
There were soft fingertips on her hand, pulling the book away from her grip. The fingers went, but the breath was still there, and Hermione shivered and closed her eyes. Then the fingers were back to give Hermione's hand a thankful squeeze, then both the breath and fingers were gone.  
  
Five minutes later, Hermione walked fast through the forest, her fingers still burning where Parkinson had touched them.  
  
"I have a good specimen tonight," Draco had said earlier. Pansy punched Dean Thomas harder, and she did not stop until she realized he had been laying on the ground unconscious for the past five minutes.  
  
She walked fast through the forest almost blindly, the rain was falling softly, and she was aching for her next victim. If she did not have a fight soon, she would end up punching and kicking at a tree or something equally useless. She was still tender from that afternoon, and Draco had not looked at her once, and when he tried, he saw right through her and at someone else who was not there. She did not like it when his eyes went glassy and lifeless like that, it scared her.  
  
In the next clearing, someone was waiting for her.  
  
_Oh no, anyone but her. _  
  
"Don't run away from me, you bitch," spat Sigma. Her hair was short, red, gelled and glossy like frozen fire, and her face was so pale Pansy could see her freckles even from across the clearing.  
  
Pansy clenched her jaw and her hands were fisted and aching. "I don't want to fight you."  
  
Sigma pushed off the tree she was leaning on, and strode over. "Well you're going to have to," she murmured dangerously.  
  
"I don't -"  
  
"Yes you do," Sigma hissed. "You're dying for a fight."  
  
"And you're only here because…" She trailed off. She had meant to say, 'Because I chose Draco over you and Artemis and you've hated me ever since,' but it never really needed to be said.  
  
Sigma shook her head. "I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong."  
  
Pansy raised an eyebrow. "Then fight me, slut."  
  
Sigma swung and the timer flashed and started its count. Pansy was ducking and defending, anticipating, then she kicked out but that was blocked, she squatted and attacked but that was blocked too, Sigma flipped backwards and Pansy ran at her, and it was fast and hard and thrilling. Eventually they were both laughing manically as they both attacked, defended, attacked, defended.  
  
"He doesn't deserve you, Pansy," said Sigma breathlessly and during an uppercut. Pansy sprang to avoid it.  
  
"Let me be the judge of that." Pansy spun-kicked several times and each time Sigma blocked, almost effortlessly.  
  
Suddenly they sprung at each other at the same time, their punches and blocks so rapid yet almost silent. In a split second, their arms had locked, and they were nose to nose.  
  
"I forfeit," said Pansy, but she did not move. Sigma narrowed her eyes.  
  
"Pathetic."  
  
"I told you I didn't want to fight you."  
  
Sigma pushed her away, looking disgusted, and said nothing.  
  
They were both panting and sweaty and Pansy was untying her ribbons. She smiled wryly. "I would have won."  
  
Sigma's look turned angry. "I hate you," she hissed, "and there was no fucking way you would have won." She grabbed the offered ribbons roughly, then turned and ran.  
  
A weary sigh before Pansy slowly left the clearing.  
  
Draco was lighting the candles. "Help me with these," he snapped.  
  
She pulled out her wand and peered closely at the stiff cat in the middle of the circle. It had been petrified, Pansy noted, and it was large, multicoloured, overly fluffy and seemed familiar.  
  
_That… that's Granger's cat! _  
  
"I haven't killed it yet," said Draco as he looked up at her, "because I was thinking of doing some other experiments -"  
  
"_Finite. Expelifino Master. _"  
  
The cat, after being unpetrified, immediately stood up and ran away fast.  
  
Draco was up instantly and he threw her to the ground. "What the fuck did you do that for!"  
  
"That was Granger's cat!"  
  
"Which," he spat angrily, "is why the feral was such a good find!" He growled and turned around as Pansy got up. "It would have taught that Mudblood good lesson!"  
  
_Yes, because it was all her fault that she was born to Muggles, Draco. _   
  
Pansy ran, and Draco's shouting followed her for a while. She was in deep shit with him now.  
  
Hermione was in the clearing, unrolling a square metre of parchment on the dirty ground when Crookshanks came to her. He ran to her, she startled, and jumped into her arms with a "meow."  
  
"What's the matter?" she cooed, stressed. "Why are you shaking, Cookie, Hunny?"  
  
"Meow." His claws dug into her shoulders.  
  
Her hands full of cat, she used her feet to push out the corners of the large sheet of paper. She had painted it earlier with a potent mix of Ofiweed and Pinkfoot.  
  
She tried to push Crookshanks off. He held on firm. "C'mon Cookie, let go for Mummy, please?"  
  
There was a snigger from behind her, and she whipped around. Parkinson was leaning against a tree, beautiful in the dim, blue light. Her wild blue eyes and intense look took Hermione's breath away. "Are you what scared him?" Her voice shook a little, and she hated herself all of a sudden. Why could not she look ethereal and shocking like that?  
  
Parkinson pushed herself away from the tree, her arms crossed, and shrugged. "Maybe," she said boredly.  
  
"I take it you lost early then? Tough."  
  
"I quit actually." She dropped her arms and walked slowly over to Hermione, her walk a sexy swagger, and her beauty only seemed to intensify.  
  
"The whole tournament?" Hermione lifted her chin and shifted Crookshanks a little in her arms.  
  
"Don't be daft." Parkinson came up to Hermione, then glanced away from her face to look around the clearing. "Interesting little hide-out you have here, Granger."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and turned so she was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Parkinson, and assessed the clearing too. "I like it," she said quietly.  
  
Parkinson snorted next to her. Surprisingly to Hermione, she seemed warm, their arms touching in the wide space.  
  
There was a short rustling from the left. Then it got louder as sequenced _ thumps_ could be heard. A moment later, Jom arrived, all in her large, squinty-eyed glory.  
  
Parkinson made a sound like a panicked squeal and hid behind Hermione, gripping Hermione's forearms hard. "What the feck is that thing?" she gasped.  
  
"Ow," complained Hermione, "watch your nails! It's just Jom."  
  
"A friend of yours?" Parkinson's voice was loud and indignant but it wavered a little in fear. Her breath brushed Hermione's ear, and Hermione was reminded of earlier that night, and of that warmness on her own neck.  
  
"Er, yes."  
  
"Well, tell her to go away."  
  
Jom had not noticed them yet. She was stomping towards the other side of the clearing, her beady eyes intent on the big trees. "I can't really," said Hermione, her eyes watching Jom's slow progression, "because now that she's here, I have a chance of getting her to pee on that piece of paper over there."  
  
The fingers gripped her arms harder and Hermione winced in pain. "And how," Parkinson pronounced, "are you going to make a fully grown monster piddle on a small piece of paper? And why the feck?"  
  
Hermione had not really thought too much about how she could make an almost fully grown, hormonal, female giant to pee on a piece of paper, but she figured she would just have to instruct the giant to do it. She told Parkinson as much then said, "It's a pregnancy test."  
  
"Oh, good Lord," was the mutter behind her. Jom grabbed the nearest tree, and in one swift movement, pulled it out of the ground, lumps of dirt falling from the roots as they were ripped away. Parkinson whimpered a little and pushed closer to Hermione, her front pressed against Hermione's back. "I have a better idea," said Parkinson loudly in Hermione's ear, "let's just back away slowly, and run away."  
  
Hermione sighed heavily. She supposed one more day of no pregnancy test results would not hurt. "Let go of me or I'll jab you with my elbows."  
  
Parkinson stubbornly did not move.  
  
"They're really boney and sharp," Hermione warned.  
  
Pansy reluctantly let go. She had liked holding Granger like that. Then she suddenly felt something furry and moving being shoved into her chest.  
  
"Hold him," snapped Granger, "my arms are tired."  
  
Pansy pouted and lifted her arms slowly to take the cat, which had calmed down considerably.  
  
"Alright then," Hermione said, putting her hands on her hips, "if I'm going to shirk on my duties tonight, might as well go for a leisurely stroll. Shall we?"  
  
"Ah, alright," Pansy grumpily agreed. They walked side-by-side out the clearing and through the forest.  
  
Pansy was annoyed; she needed to get into her bitchy mood to put Hermione back in her place. "Did you read the book, then?"  
  
There was a pause from Granger. The cracking of twigs and sticks could be heard as they trudged through the denseness. "Not all of it," said Granger reluctantly, "just the bit you told me to read."  
  
Pansy smirked, satisfied. She was on top again. "And…?" she prompted. "What did you think?"  
  
"I think," began Granger loudly, "I'm starting to understand what's going on. What I don't understand is, where the book came from and who wrote it." The book was much like a bunch of scrap, brown paper that a five year old had bound together. Some of the hand writing and grammar seemed as though it was written by a five year old too, which confused them both. "Or I suppose I could mean, 'whom'," Granger elaborated.  
  
"No," said Pansy, "it was written by only one person. This way." Pansy suddenly made a left turn. She did not want to run into Draco.  
  
"But," said Granger, running a bit to catch up to Pansy, "it's like a diary, written by several people. The writing style, the handwriting - even the theories, they're all different!"  
  
"No, you'll find if you read more, it was written by the same person. He talks about his experiences with necromancy. But," and here she stopped abruptly and turned to Granger, so Granger had to stop herself from running into her, "he had schizophrenia."  
  
Granger's eyes were wide and her expression was rapt. They stared into each others faces, their discoveries shared, and Pansy had no space left inside her to feel lonely at that moment. "Multiple personalities?" gasped Granger.  
  
"Yes," said Pansy softly, "he believed the spirits he resurrected stayed with him."  
  
"My God."  
  
"Quite."  
  
"Do you think - "  
  
"No, it won't happen. He's stronger than that."  
  
"I think, I think, um," Granger mumbled softly, looking away, "that it could be happening to _me_."   
  
Pansy said nothing. What was there to say? To do?  
  
Granger started walking again. Pansy turned and followed. "So in the book," Granger mumbled, "he goes to say that people are made up of four main parameters: Body, Soul, Spirit and Conscience."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But while the Spirit and Conscience work together but are essentially detached, Soul and Conscience are attached, and most believe they are the same thing."  
  
Granger paused, her face tense and her eyes moving, thoughtful. Pansy pushed a strand of golden hair behind her ear. "But they're not," Granger continued, "they just can't exist properly with each other. And if the make-up of a person is altered so one _does_ exist without the other, then there is a rip in space and time, but only to a certain radius."  
  
"And the people around and associated with the rip can't handle it, and they experience symptoms of a very negative kind," Pansy murmured.  
  
"Yes," said Granger, seeming quite excited. "So when a body dies, the next to go is the Soul. It splits and scatters back to the Earth and air. Then in that brief interval, there is a small, harmless rip that tells all other life that a life is gone.  
  
"Then the next is the conscience, which attaches itself to the Spirit, which drifts away to either become a ghost, or to the Afterlife."  
  
"That's about it."  
  
"So when a Dementor takes your Soul, it's taking the Conscience as well. And when someone resurrects someone else, the Soul can't be called back because it has returned to the Earth, so technically you can't resurrect anyone properly. And when the Conscience is summoned back to the real world, it can't survive properly, and there's an open rip."  
  
They stopped. Then they turned and looked at each other, their expressions grim.  
  
"Don't worry about the Draco thing," said Pansy suddenly, "I can handle it."  
  
Granger smiled sadly. "Can you really?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
She frowned. "I don't like you with him."  
  
_Oh Granger_, thought Pansy, _I want to kiss you. _  
  
But instead, she turned and walked away.  
  
Hermione stood there for a while, her thoughts a jumble of death, love and the Dream Guy she had not seen for some time. Then, as if summoned by her own thoughts, he appeared.  
  
His blue ghostly light came through the trees and bathed her in it. She could feel the preternatural cold on her skin, and the light filtered through the trees in broken beams. She stared, and was afraid, but this time she made sure her body was still and calm.  
  
"So, you have no Soul," she whispered.  
  
He stopped, stood and seemed to smile sadly. She was suddenly racked with despair for this poor boy, who had died at an age no older than her own.  
  
A calm nod. He understood! And so did she.  
  
He drifted closer, and breathed smoky cold air on her. He opened his mouth and said something, but it sounded far away, as if calling from a distance, and she could not make it out.  
  
She did what he wanted her to do. She half closed her unfocused eyes, and slowly lifted her hand to reach out to him, just as he did the same.  
  
Her palm was faced downwards, as his was faced up, and the palms were inches apart, slowly, Hermione's hand quivered and got closer. She was dimly aware that she was freezing cold. She inhaled a shivering breath, and it seemed to take the life from her. So tired…  
  
_Let me drift here in this cold… and I will see why you cry so. _  
  
Tired. Sleep.  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
_Is someone calling my name? _  
  
Suddenly she opened her eyes. It was day and she was standing on the cobble in the street. There were shops on either side. She was so happy to be with her father. So lucky to have a father like that. She loved him very much. He was going to take her out for a father-son lunch, but someone got in the way.  
  
"HERMIONE!"  
  
The images shot away from her like bullet from a gun, she was lying on her back and it was dark and cold again.  
  
"Hermione, wake up!" Someone was shaking her shoulders.  
  
"Errnn," she mumbled. She opened her eyes to see Anthony crouching over her.  
  
"Oh thank Merlin," he gasped, "thank him to Heaven and back!"  
  
"He was murdered."  
  
"Alright Hermione," he soothed, "you're okay now."  
  
"No… I saw him… through his eyes…"  
  
"You should go back to your dorm. Here, I'll help you."  
  
He dragged her up, and she blinked, looking around. Dark and trees, and He was gone.  
  
Anthony had her by the arm, and was dragging her through the trees. She yawned and blinked herself awake.  
  
"You scared me," he exclaimed, "you were just lying there. D'you want to go to the kitchens for some chocolate?"  
  
"I suppose," she rasped. She wished Parkinson was here, she needed to talk about what she saw. Or even better, Harry and Ron; their strong arms could squeeze any kind of fear away. She suddenly moved, and then they were holding hands. She needed the comfort. "What were you doing, anyway?" she asked him.  
  
"Oh I um," he looked away, "was with Blaise."  
  
Hermione made a face, and said nothing the rest of the way back to Hogwarts.  
  
**To Be Continued.**


	5. Reconsider

**Relapse: Reconsider**

  


by dented-sky

  
  
_She takes it into stride  
And waits it on the shore  
Sure enough beside the sand  
Is that little something more_  
  
Hermione woke up three mornings later in Harry's empty bed.  
  
Most the beds in the Gryffindor seventh year dormitory were empty, because, she assumed, the boys had gotten up early for their morning Quidditch practice. However, Harry had been absent from his for the past few nights, because he was sick and being treated in the Hospital Wing. She had refused to sleep with Ron that night, and instead had decided to sleep in Harry's empty one. It smelt strongly of him - the musky scent of sweaty skin, plain shampoo and the pumpkin juice he always had on his breath. She rolled over onto her front and breathed in his essence from the pillow.  
  
There was a shuffle heard from within the room as Seamus' bed curtains were pushed aside.  
  
She looked up sleepily and saw Anthony in the only other occupied bed in the room, naked and grinning bashfully. The sunlight filtering through the window blinded her and she blinked.  
  
"So when are you going to tell them?" croaked Hermione.  
  
Anthony's welcoming smile faltered. "Well good morning to you too."  
  
"Today, I hope."  
  
"Well today was a good morning until you -"  
  
"I meant I hope you tell them today."  
  
Anthony rolled his eyes and fell back against the pillows, exhaling exhaustedly. "Yeah, maybe tomorrow."  
  
Hermione, still in yesterday's clothes, got up.  
  
She walked out the dorm and Anthony called after her to wait for him in the Common Room.  
  
Ten minutes later they were walking to the Hospital Wing, when they passed Professor Weasley's office. They shyly said Hello as he walked out, looking flushed and distracted.  
  
"Rumour has it he's sleeping with a student," Anthony whispered to Hermione when the professor was almost out of earshot.  
  
"He's not," Hermione lied.  
  
"But look at him! All mused and flustered! Bet he had a big night last night."  
  
"That's revolting."  
  
"Oh no," Anthony deadpanned, smiling. "He's absolutely gorgeous. Wouldn't mind taking him for a ride, so."  
  
She pursed her lips and flicked a strand of hair away from her face. "I think your sex schedule is a bit full, don't you."  
  
He chuckled. "Oh, _ouch_, that killed me."  
  
As soon as they got to their destination, Hermione ran into the room and up to Harry's usual bed. "Hey," she gasped, "how are you feeling?"  
  
Harry was extremely pale with strange blotches here and there, as if someone had painted his face with plaster then smeared purple eye shadow for blusher. Hermione and Anthony leaned over and peered at him closely.  
  
"Have you been in a fight mate?" Anthony blurted.  
  
Harry looked absolutely exhausted, though his emerald eyes were bright with manic activity. He nodded and looked away.  
  
Hermione crossed her arms and straightened. "I think you better go," she told Anthony. He took the cue and left.  
  
She waited. Finally Harry said quietly, "I was released last night, but I didn't get very far. Ran straight into Malfoy, that bastard, and before I knew it," he grinned and faced her, "we were rolling all over the floor, trying to punch each other to death."  
  
"Merlin, Harry," Hermione sighed as she pulled up a chair and sat down.  
  
He bit his dry lips thoughtfully. "You know," a deep breath, "he was really ready to kill me. Said that I killed his father."  
  
"And did you?"  
  
Harry's eyes widened and he stared at her, his eyes searching hers. "No," he said boldly.  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Well I don't know do I? You never tell me anything about that night."  
  
He looked away and she grabbed his warm hand and held onto it tightly. He was everything to her; her best friend, her brother, her almost-spouse.  
  
"I didn't kill Lucius Malfoy," said Harry softly.  
  
"If you say so, then I believe you."  
  
"But I did," he took a deep breath, "kill the others. I had to, and then I thought Sirius was back and then I was so glad, because it meant I had a one over Bellatrix Lestrange but I didn't. In the end."  
  
"But Malfoy doesn't believe you?"  
  
Harry squinted in thought. "It's all in his head," he sighed. "No matter what I say, it won't register. There's something seriously wrong with his brain."  
  
So Malfoy had psychological problems. But Hermione had figured that out herself a while ago. She sat and rubbed her thumb across Harry's hand, and waited.  
  
He was going into some kind of trance. He began, "I apparated outside Malfoy Manor, knowing that Lestrange and Wormtail would be there. Lucius too, I wanted to kill him, for Ginny." Here he glanced in the direction of the other hospital beds. Of course, Ginny was not in; it was obvious to Hermione she had spent the night with her brother. But Lavender lay on her back in a bed, pale and unmoving.  
  
"Have you found out anything about what's causing the sickness?" Harry asked suddenly, startling Hermione. Harry's eyes were wide and focused again, which made Hermione feel a bit disappointed. She wanted to hear his story.  
  
"I'm working on it."  
  
His face darkened and he looked away. "Yes I heard. You're getting help from Pansy Parkinson." As he spoke his bruises started to disappear. He must have drunk a healing potion before she came in, and it was starting to do its job.  
  
"She's helpful."  
  
"Don't trust her," Harry muttered. "Don't. She has issues."  
  
But Hermione wanted to trust her. "What sort of issues?"  
  
"She can keep a grudge to her grave. She's one of those girls who seems calm on the outside but all the while there's hate boiling inside. It grows and grows on and on forever."  
  
Hermione clicked her tongue. "Oh please, Harry, don't be so dramatic. So, what happened the night Lucius Malfoy disappeared?"  
  
"What?" He yawned. "I went to Malfoy Manor and… I hate this story. Um, I don't really remember. Kinda blurry."  
  
"Were you on something?"  
  
"No. What is this, Twenty Questions?"  
  
Hermione said nothing, staring at Harry stonily. If she did not move, maybe he would think her a statue and talk his heart out.  
  
"I killed people, alright?" He sat up suddenly. "I killed Wormtail, then I killed Bellatrix Lestrange. Then I went after Malfoy, but someone else had gotten to him first."  
  
"Was he dead?" Hermione tried to keep her voice a calm monotone, but it was very hard to do with the amount of thought and emotion buzzing through her body.  
  
"No. But he had been tortured. A lot."  
  
"Who did it to him?"  
  
A pause. "I… don't know."  
  
"Didn't you see who was with him?"  
  
"Yes I did. But my memory has been erased." They stared at each other. "I realize that now."  
  
Harry was hungry. Together the two of them went to breakfast, then Ron joined them and they went for a walk down to Hagrid's cottage.  
  
Ron lit a joint. "Just tell Hagrid I've already eaten," he requested of his two best friends. "I can't eat his rock cakes, no way!" To take the stress away from being Head Boy, Ron often took drugs, which were aplenty in a school for wizards. But taking drugs meant constipation, which meant Ron was never hungry unless he was coming down from a high. Ron made sure he was never coming down from a high.  
  
They entered and Hagrid greeted them joyfully, offering tea, which they accepted. He asked Harry how he was feeling, and Harry said he was fine, which Hermione knew was a lie. They had conversations about school, and Hagrid talked about his classes, and the animals he had in store for his students. At some point Ron rolled up some paper and snorted a line of Mandrake pollen.  
  
Hermione was about to report to Hagrid of her progress with Grawp and his mate, when something cold crept up along her neck. At first she thought it was merely a fly and swatted it away, but then she realized it was creeping under her collar and over the bare skin of her back, chest and shoulders. She paled when she realized it was very suddenly hard to breathe.  
  
Harry slumped forward and his head hit the table.  
  
Ron was shaking him, demanding what was wrong.  
  
Hermione heard none of it.  
  
She turned in her seat and froze at the figure of Him, staring at her through the window. Ice crept along the glass and mist spread through the air. He lifted a finger and pointed to his right.  
  
A few minutes before, Pansy Parkinson had been running. She was unsure of what she was running from; it may have been fear, sadness, a broken heart. It was not as if Draco would come after her, no, he would have caught her by now. It just went to show he did not care. But Merlin, it hurt, it hurt so much, and perhaps, just maybe, that was what she was running from: the hurt. Either that or she was running from the fact that she was hurt, running from the hate she had for herself because she was _not supposed to care!_  
  
And, a few minutes before the running, she had been in her dorm room. She had seen with angry eyes Draco fucking Daphne Greengrass on the bed next to Pansy's own.  
  
Well.  
  
She knew it happened. Everyone knew, in fact, and she was not one to care. She heard the rumours and raised an eyebrow and said, "That's Draco, that's what he does." Not a tear shed, not a tear.  
  
Perhaps that was what she was running from: the fact that, after all this time of not crying, she had finally burst into tears. It was one thing to hear about Draco, it was quite another to see it. And with one of her so-called friends as well.  
  
So Pansy ran, and sobbed, and cried. She ran through the corridors of the Dungeons. Ran up the moving stairs and through the halls filled with light. Ran through the doorway and outside.  
  
She ran across the lawns and down the hill and to the lake and did not stop running. She fell into the water and it surrounded her.  
  
Nearby a figure was standing, pointing in Parkinson's direction. As soon as Hermione left Hagrid's cottage, it disappeared. But her focus had gone to something else. The lake rippled near the shore, as if there were movement just below the surface.  
  
It was Hermione running, this time.  
  
Cold water hit her ancles and soaked into her shoes. She paused, caught her breath, then dived.  
  
The Hogwarts Lake was known to be deep and murky and to be the home of the Giant Squid. There were also weeds, which scrapped and grappled onto Hermione's limbs, and twisted in her hair. Her fingers caught onto something a little more solid.  
  
She grabbed Parkinson by the arm, and then pulled her up a little higher so she could circle her arms around the slim waist.  
  
Their head broke the surface; one slumped down onto the other's shoulder. Ron and Harry were in the water up to their busts, and helped the girls get closer to shore. The girls kneeled in the shallow water.  
  
Parkinson was waking up. She mumbled something against Hermione's neck and the hands pressed against her back moved. The white cotton of their shirts clung to their skin and the water made the material slightly transparent. The Slytherin slowly lifted her head, her lips sliding against Hermione's jaw. Her hands fell to Hermione's stocking clad thighs.  
  
"I'm really sorry," Parkinson rasped, and kissed her.  
  
It was cold, wet and sloppy, unlike the soft, warm, firm feeling Hermione had imagined. She was aware of Harry and Ron standing nearby.  
  
Hagrid thundered down the hill. "Yer all righ' thur?"  
  
Parkinson abruptly stood up, knocking Hermione over onto her elbows. "I'm fine," Parkinson snapped, her hands flying to her messy blonde hair, then over to smooth down her clinging wet skirt. She turned to the boys. "What are you looking at!" Ron shut his gaping mouth. "Peed your knickers, have you? That excited to see a girl in a wet T-shirt, are you?" She stomped up the shore and pushed past them, and walked fast up the hill.  
  
Harry was looking a little pale, and was staring at Hermione, who looked away from his green glare. "What a bitch," Ron mumbled. Hermione wanted to cry.  
  
As Head Girl, Pansy had access to the Prefects' Bathroom. She took a bath and ordered an elf to get her some clothes. It reappeared with jeans and a jumper.  
  
When Pansy returned to the Slytherin commons, she was resolute in her plan of action. Predictably, Sigma, Artemis and Zabini were sitting up the back in the shadows.  
  
"A fish out of water, you are," said Zabini.  
  
"What you want, then?" said Sigma. "Rather not see your ugly face, so just get lost, alright."  
  
Pansy took a deep breath and held her chin up. "I want to say I'm sorry." The other three looked at her with a little more interest than before. "And I think we should be friends again."  
  
They stared. Pansy stared back.  
  
Artemis let out a little sigh. Sigma said, "It's about time, you thick cunt."  
  


To Be Continued.  
  
I want to thank everyone for reviewing so far and to those who will review soon hint hint. I want to also appologize for taking so long to update and also for the shortness of the update itself. Future chapters (only three more to go!) will be much longer.


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